


The Sale of the Century - Parts 1-4

by redvalerian



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Massage, Scully - Freeform, Skinner - Freeform, The X-Files - Freeform, charity auction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redvalerian/pseuds/redvalerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully gets a little carried away at a Valentine's Day charity auction where the bidding is fierce and the 'prize' is rather tall, rather broad and rather surly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sale of the Century - Parts 1-4

Title - The Sale of the Century  
Author - Red Valerian  
email - redvalerian@gmail.com  
Rating - NC-17 - eventually  
Category - Skinnerotica - Scully/Skinner  
Spoilers - A tiny bit of Gethsemane and Redux II  
Keywords - Story? Yup. Romance? Yup. Sex? You betcha.  
Summary - Scully gets a little carried away at a Valentine's Day charity auction where the bidding is fierce and the 'prize' is rather tall, rather broad and rather surly.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belong to Carter. Wish they didn't. (This is my Hemingway-esque disclaimer.)

Author Notes: Many thanks to Margie Maggiulli - who sent me a wish which inspired this. She hoped I 'd be granted, "hot surly massages at the hands of large careless men." If only! Also thanks to Miki Akimoto whose explanation of the meaning of Zero Sum came in handy!

 

 

The Sale of the Century- Part One  
By Red Valerian

 

 

"Here's something that just might interest you Scully."

There was an indefinable quality in Mulder's voice when he spoke the innocuous words. Amusement was mixed with....what? She couldn't quite tell. But Scully could see from the barely repressed grin on her partner's face that he was up to something. Which was fine by her. Mulder in playful mode was always a welcome diversion. She grinned back at him expectantly. A little girl waiting for her best friend to entertain her.

It was a wet sleety day in mid February, and god knew that Scully could do with some diversion after what she'd been through in the past week. Anything to take her mind off of the all-encompassing obsession which was threatening her sanity. She'd been acting like an idiot lately. Scratch idiot. She'd been acting more like an adolescent schoolgirl who had a crush on her favourite teacher. Only for 'teacher' read, boss.

When had it happened? When had her feelings for AD Skinner shifted from healthy respect, to rampant lust? It may have started in the guilt. Her maxima culpa. She'd believed him capable of the worst betrayal and when his innocence was proven - when she'd realised just how badly she'd misjudged him - she'd begun to look at him differently.

If before she had viewed him through a glass darkly, she now saw Skinner through an altered prism which made him shine and burn with an intensity that hurt the eyes. He'd been through so much for them....for her. And he asked for nothing in return. Nothing. She couldn't get out of her mind that image of him standing awkwardly in the hospital doorway, looking like he had no right to come in and join the charmed circle around her bed.

Was that when she'd realised the depth of her feelings? She didn't know...couldn't pinpoint it precisely. But for the last few months she'd had to acknowledge that she'd been able to think of little else. He didn't make it any easier. He'd taken to calling her in for debriefings without Mulder - insisting that she report directly to him the moment she returned from a field assignment.

She knew why. He was concerned over her health - worried that she was doing too much too soon after the remission. Sometimes she suspected that this concern was professional only - but at other times there seemed to be more to it. And then *that* incident had happened and things had become even more complicated.

Scully had returned from a particularly fatiguing assignment the previous week. All she'd wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep - but instead she'd dragged herself into Skinner's office as per his orders, and sat exhausted in a chair facing his desk. Wintry light filtered weakly through the window blinds and cast bars of amber and black across his face - making him look like he'd been streaked with camouflage paint. There was something almost inhuman - almost aloof in his stance and dimly seen expression.

Then he'd suddenly leaned forward into one of the thin funnels of light coming through the blinds, and she'd seen the expression on his face more clearly. It wasn't aloof at all. Quite the opposite; although it did look as though he were desperately trying to control some sort of strong emotion. Could it be anger? Frustration? Disappointment?

Was he going to suspend her? Fire her?

She began to give her report - hearing herself babbling nervously - hating the schoolgirl tremor that occasionally betrayed the uneasiness she was feeling.

Skinner had stared at her pinched face in complete silence - while apparently listening avidly to her half-assed attempt at a report. But she'd somehow sensed that he hadn't heard one word she was saying. Finally she allowed her voice to trail off into silence, the report only half concluded.

At that point he had pronounced her doom. Well - near as dammit.

"Scully - " he had said. "Cut the crap. You are clearly not fit for duty yet. I'm putting you on temporary suspension starting immediately. Go home. Go to bed. I don't want to see you again until the fourteenth at the earliest. And only then if I'm given an assurance by your physician that you're really ready for work. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

She'd bridled immediately and begun a fierce and very vocal protest. Anger gave her a vitality that the illness had almost sapped. How dare he insult her intelligence by assuming that she didn't know when she was fit enough for duty? What gave him the right to make pronouncements about her fitness or otherwise for work? When had he acquired a medical degree?

"Every asshole in God's green universe thinks that they know what's best for me," she had finished - nearly shouting by that time. "Well they don't! *I* know what's best for me. Have I made *myself* perfectly clear?"

And that was what had started it, she supposed. Because she'd argued with him so fiercely. Called him an asshole. Used his words against him.

Skinner had stood up suddenly - silencing her in mid rant. So suddenly that his chair had tipped over and crashed to the floor behind him. She had stared at him with her mouth open and eyes widening in shocked surprise.

At that point he'd leant forward on the desk, arms rigidly bracing his broad torso, his body casting a long shadow over her slender form.

"Stop it!" he'd hissed at her. "Just stop it, OK! Stop trying to pretend that you're better when clearly you are anything but."

It wasn't so much the words as the intensity of his expression as he uttered them that stopped her mouth and caused her heart to begin pounding uncomfortably. She found herself unable to pull her gaze away from the intensity of his.

The tension stretched, elongated and finally snapped. With an almost angry growl, Skinner shoved himself back into a standing position and then walked quickly out from behind his desk. He reached the startled agent in two great strides, and immediately crouched down by her. Then, before she realised what he had in mind, his arms whipped out and he cradled her pale face in both of his huge callused palms, threading his fingers through her hair until they almost interlaced at the base of her scull. She'd felt the pads of each finger pressing into her scalp - his thumbs stroking firmly against her temples. Then he tipped her head back so that she was forced to meet his gaze full on as he pulled her face gently towards his own. So close she could no longer focus on him properly. His voice was hypnotic, although she was having trouble hearing the words over the sound of blood pounding in her ears.

"For God's sake Scully - will you just do what you're told for once? If you won't obey my orders as your boss, can't you agree to take my advice as your.....friend?"

Then he'd leaned in even further and for one startling moment she'd actually thought he might be going to kiss her. His breath was hot on her suddenly icy flesh - his eyes a dangerous abyss. A shiver had suddenly run through her body, causing her to tremble uncontrollably.

He couldn't help but feel it - but still he held her face imprisoned in the twin grip of his hands. Still his breath sent shivers up her spine which caused another shudder to course through her body. At this second reaction Skinner had suddenly jumped up and turned away. He stood with his back to her, his body held rigidly, hands bunched into fists. She heard him mutter something about her clearly having caught a chill.

How gentlemanly of him. He was giving her an excuse for the trembling which had wracked her body, when they both knew it was sexual arousal - pure and simple. But the polite fiction was a kindness which allowed her to salvage some self-respect.

Scully took advantage of the opportunity he'd given her for escape. She heard herself agreeing to take that week off after all. No problem. Please accept my apologies for calling you an asshole sir. I'm sure you meant well. I'll just be going now.

Then babbling something that she hoped sounded at least partially sane, she'd scurried out of his office like a bat out of hell. God - she'd have agreed to take a year off, just to get out of there and think about what had just happened.

And ever since then she had been able to think of nothing else. Skinner's hands. How warm and vital they'd felt - cradling her face. His eyes had burned her as they raked over her tired features, but it was the hands that had made her shiver. All she'd wanted to do was close her eyes and surrender to the feelings that his unexpected touch had awakened. How many times since had she played that moment back in the last week? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?

In some versions he had leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead - then her two eyes - then....very softly....her lips. All very tender and almost paternal.

Not good.

In other versions he'd stared at her dry lips as she licked them nervously, and then suddenly pulled her face to his - kissing her with a desperation which was soon matched by an echoing need of her own; his tongue dancing in her mouth, his hands tilting her head first to one side then the other, the leverage helping deepen his frantic kisses.

At still others, he'd pulled her out of the chair and lowered her onto the floor, covering her shivering body with his strength and power - filling her with his life-force. His hands and lips everywhere - now stroking and soothing now teasing and arousing.

It was that last scenario which she returned to with humiliating frequency. How many times in the last week had she ended up turning her hot face into a pillow and moaning his name over and over as her hands gave her body some relief.

Well - the week had drawn to a close and she felt fantastic physically - there was no denying it. But emotionally she was now a wreck. She'd had nothing to do during that entire time but dwell on Skinner and *that* incident. Dwell on how his hands had felt on her face. Dwell on how they might feel on the rest of her body. Dwell on how that body might feel on top of hers. She could think of absolutely nothing else. It was pathetic.

Her one consolation through it all was that Mulder had no idea what she was going through. He'd make her life a misery if he suspected anything. She could see it all. He'd probably make kissy noises every time she walked by his chair and carve "Scully loves Skinner" on her shiny new desktop. At the thought of said desk , she was brought out of her reverie. She looked down at it and ran both hands over its smooth mahogany finish. She loved keeping it completely bare, although she knew it drove Mulder crazy to see it that way. Which was half the fun of course.

Now she smiled expectantly as her partner invaded her neat corner of their chaotic office. He stared at her face for a few minutes, looking as if he were about to speak. Then, changing his mind, he slapped a lurid red flyer down on the bare desk and proceeded to watch her closely as she picked it up. Scully gave him a sidelong glance, but she could tell that he had no intention of giving anything away.

She broke eye contact finally, and looked down at the leaflet in her hand.

The words "Valentine's Day Charity Auction" met her eye. Was it Valentine's Day already? It was. She'd completely forgotten about it. Something else to be depressed about. But what was this Charity Auction? She looked at the leaflet heading and it came back to her.

She remembered reading a memo about it weeks before. This was the caring sharing nineties, and the FBI wanted to turn a more 'human face' to the public. There was to be an auction - not of goods - but of services. The various Senior Managers of the FBI had been 'asked' to donate their time and expertise for a good cause - the 'Have a Heart' children's home. Valentine's Day had seemed like an appropriate time to hold it.

Senior management may have been 'asked' to participate, but 'ordered' was closer to the mark. Kicking and screaming the nine Assistant Directors, with their accompanying Deputy Assistant Directors and Section Chiefs had been coerced into 'volunteering' themselves for the cause. There was to be a cocktail party and nibbles, but the 'desert' would be watching the public humiliation of their superiors as they were effectively put up for sale to the highest bidder.

And here at last Scully held the finalised auction catalogue - in her suddenly icy hand.

She ran her eye down the list of 'lots', trying not to react to Mulder's close scrutiny. Many of the names were familiar, but most were not - with a few exceptions. McGrath was offering to provide flying lessons. That was hardly surprising. Everyone knew about his obsession with his new toy. Who else was there?

Thank god the list was alphabetised. That should make it easier to see if Skinner was on it. He was meant to be, but somehow she couldn't imagine that anyone could make the man do something so potentially embarrassing. And even if he was on the list, what possible service could he be offering? It wasn't likely to be a candlelit dinner for two followed by serious messing around, was it? And let's face it - that was all she was really interested in.

Still - you never knew.

Scully's eyes flew down the page, bypassing some quite nifty offers. Then with an indrawn hiss of surprise she saw it as the final lot. The name. *His* name. She read the auction details avidly - unaware that her partner had shifted so that he now stood behind her, reading over her shoulder. As Scully silently read the words, Mulder leant down and whispered them aloud into her left ear.

"AD Walter Skinner - will provide a full-body massage at a venue of the successful bidder's choice."

The very thought was enough to making her giddy. Scully's eyes glazed over for a minute while she considered the possibilities and mentally checked the balance of her bank account . No problem on that front . She hardly ever spent anything - largely because she had no life outside of the X-files. A small smile lit up her face, as she realised that unless the man went for the price of a Rolls Royce, she could probably afford him. Hell - she could afford two of him! Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile faded. Who was she kidding? She'd never have the nerve to bid on Skinner. It was potentially far too embarrassing. The rational part of her mind told her to crumple up the red catalogue and throw it in the bin. Forget it Dana. Don't risk public humiliation. What would happen if you did 'buy' him and it turned out he hadn't wanted you to? Don't even think about taking the chance.

But another part of her couldn't help looking wistfully at the final lot and remembering what Skinner''s hands had felt like. She wanted to feel them again. God - did she want to feel them again. And he was offering a *full* body massage........

Scully had forgotten who was standing behind her until Mulder cleared his throat ostentatiously.Only then did she turn her head and meet her partner's amused gaze. Damn. He knew exactly what she'd been thinking. She could tell.

A quick blush spread over her features as she watched Mulder's knowing grin spread.

He *definitely* knew. There could be no doubt about it. And she thought she'd hidden her feelings well, too. She should have known better. Still - she wasn't going to give in without a fight. Desperately trying to pretend innocence, she spoke at last.

"What makes you think I'm interested in that particular lot, Mulder?" The words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

Mulder didn't even dignify the question with a reply. He just shook his head from side to side and rolled his eyes heavenwards. The expression said, "Cut the shit, Scully," as clearly as if he'd spoken the words out loud.

She caved.

"OK - let's say I *were* interested in bidding for this particular....."she hesitated hunting for the right word...."this particular...service. Would it be a good idea for me to try to purchase it? I mean - the tickets alone cost the earth. And how would it look if I started to bid on my boss? What would people say? What would Skinner think? No - I've decided. It will be better on the whole if I just don't get involved. Don't you agree?"

She looked up at him, her guard down and her blue eyes begging him to argue with her.

In answer, Mulder grinned sweetly and slapped two tickets down on the desk. Front row tickets. One hundred dollars a head, no less. To tonight's charity auction. Scully turned back and gazed at them in amazement.

"Consider it an early birthday present," he said smugly. "It was a toss-up - another Apollo 11 Key Chain or tickets to 'The Sale of the Century'. Of course if you'd *rather* have another key chain....."

He reached down to take the tickets back, but Scully was too quick for him. Her hand whipped out and she'd grabbed them before he was even halfway there. Mulder laughed outright at her actions and she had the grace to blush again. Well and truly busted.

She'd misjudged Mulder. Perhaps he could actually be a help in this matter. And she'd never even thought of confiding in *him*. Now she smiled in his direction and her happy expression was an apology and thanks all at the same time.

Mulder's eyes were full of self-satisfaction, although something about his mouth made him look a little vulnerable - a little less happy. His answer belied the looks, however.

"I'll pick you up at eight, partner," he said - cheerfully enough. "Wear something sexy and bring a fat checkbook. "

He kissed her on the cheek then, and started to walk towards the door until Scully's voice halted him.

"You know Mulder, there was a time when I thought you and I might....."

Her voice trailed off, but she looked at his back affectionately, willing him to turn around. He obliged and coming back he leant down and kissed her on the tip of her nose.

"Yeah - me too Scully," he said gently - almost wistfully. "But not in this lifetime, I guess. In this life we're something even better."

"Best friends?" she asked hopefully.

"You got it."

They smiled at each other for a second before they left the office to go their separate ways. Scully needed to buy something sexy and Mulder needed to hire a dinner jacket.

They were each successful in their respective quests.

 

 

The Sale of the Century - Part Two

 

 

Scully sat in the front row of the crowded room and fidgeted uncomfortably. The rows of folding chairs filling the elegant ballroom of the Princess Alexandra Hotel looked incongruous in their unexpected setting. Crystal chandeliers and William Morris wallpaper made for an odd mix with the functional but utilitarian furniture. It would soon not matter, however - as the chairs were rapidly being filled with elegantly dressed people who fitted right into the ballroom setting. The men all wore dinner jackets with wing collars and bow-ties, but it was the women who really ornamented the scene. Their shimmering and glittering gowns added a flickering glow to a ballroom already brilliantly lit.

Scully stood out from the others, however. Her dress neither shimmered nor glowed, although her skin did both as did her gleaming auburn hair. Next to the acres of gold and silver lame which adorned most the other women, her matte black velvet gown looked like it was making some sort of statement. Which hadn't been the idea at all. The idea had been to blend right in so that no-one would notice her. Or so that only *one* person would notice her. Instead she seemed to be drawing the eyes of everyone *but* him.

With a worried frown on he face, Scully leant over and whispered into her partner's ear.

"Mulder - I *knew* I shouldn't have worn this dress. I'm the only woman here who doesn't glitter. Eveyone's staring."

Mulder grinned down at her.

"Scully - trust me - a man only wants tinsel on his Christmas tree - not on his women." He drew a little away from her and gave her a very obvious once over before continuing. "You look very beautiful." Then he paused for a second. "Ravishing - actually."

At the word "ravishing" he had shifted his tone to that of the 'comic lothario' in some bad English film.

Scully almost giggled, but in the end she contented herself with rolling her eyes heavenwards to show that she didn't take what he said too seriously. It had made her feel a little better, though. Mulder could always be counted on to do that.

To take her mind off of her worrying choice of dress, Scully looked up at the stage again and examined the row of men she found there. She'd seen Skinner the second she'd come into the room of course, sitting ill-at-ease up on the low stage. Although all of the other 'lots' were also present, she hadn't been able to take her eyes off of him since. The compliment had not been returned, however. He had stared fixedly at some spot just over the heads of the growing audience, apparently determined to make eye-contact with no-one, hiding behind the steel-rims as usual. Occasionally he fidgeted in his chair and once or twice he tried unsuccessfully to loosen his collar, before giving up in apparent disgust - but that was about the only sign he gave that he was actually alive.

Scully couldn't help comparing him with the other men on stage, now. Skinner was beautiful, there was no getting around it. A God in Black Tie. Everyone else looked coolly formal in a dinner jacket - sophisticated and almost asexual.

Not Skinner.

His rampant masculinity couldn't be restrained or hidden behind fine tailoring and wing collars. The broad chest and powerful arms were clearly in evidence as was the scowl and the grim line of his sensuous lips. He might try to hide his nature behind acres of gleaming broadcloth, but it shone through. Every woman in the room saw it and leant a little further forward in her seat. Every woman held her breath and bit her bottom lip, and wondered how long it would be until that particular lot came under the hammer. Only Scully seemed to be in some doubt about the whole situation. Her face alone continued to reflect anxiety and indecision.

She no longer recognised herself. Who was this woman who'd forked out a month's salary on the deceptively simple full-length black gown that clasped her body in an almost sensual embrace? Its dangerously plunging neckline had already earned her a wolf-whistle from Mulder when she'd opened the door to him.

"Jesus, Scully..." he had breathed, as his eyes raked up and down her generous curves. "Can we reconsider this 'best friends' thing? Because getting you *out* of that black velvet gown is suddenly looking like a much more pleasant way to spend the evening."

She had blushed a little and laughed a little and tried to convince herself that he was only joking, but a part of her was concerned that he might have meant just what he said. And wouldn't that just be too ironic? Because it was looking as though Skinner had no interest in *her* whatsoever. Perhaps they were all doomed to eternally lust after the wrong object - in a poor imitation of Greek tragedy.

The hard truth was, that while every other man on stage seemed absolutely fascinated by her cleavage, Skinner remained oblivious to what Mulder had laughingly referred to earlier as her "womanly wiles".

Scully sighed.

At that point Mulder leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"Would you stop sighing and believe me for once! It's a *good* sign that he's ignoring you. I know whereof I speak. He doesn't *dare* look at you because he's afraid he'll give himself away - that you'll see the crazed lust in his eyes. Trust me on this. A man knows these things."

Scully did giggle that time and although she called it all nonsense, it cheered her up nonetheless. She reached over and squeezed Mulder's hand.

She didn't stop to think how the two of them looked to outside observers. She wasn't aware that they had their very own very interested audience.

 

The Sale of the Century - Part Three

 

Intimate. That's how they looked. Completely intimate and comfortable together. Like long-time lovers who touched each other now without even realising that they did so. Mulder had several times stroked the fabric of Scully's velvet gown, for instance, afterwards whispering something in her ear. Each time he'd done it, she'd smiled and whispered something back. Once she'd smoothed the unruly lock of hair back off of his brow, and then later he'd sat still like a good boy while she'd straightened his bow tie.

On stage, Skinner had seen it all. Despite his apparent lack of attention, his peripheral vision had been more than adequate to torture him with images from the "I Love Mulder Show" that Scully seemed to be putting on for all of the spectators. He chanced yet another quick glance directly at her this time. Yet again Scully was otherwise occupied with her partner. Skinner saw her put her small hand on Mulder's neck and pull him down for another whispered consultation about something or other which they clearly both found incredibly amusing.

The AD clenched his jaw more tightly and prayed that this evening would end soon, before he disgraced himself by stepping down off the stage, and doing something he'd regret.

Like what? For a start, like yanking Scully out of Mulder's proprietorial grasp. Like decking the male agent and throwing the female one over his shoulder cave-man style. All evening he'd been dreaming about taking her somewhere private where he could discover just what was under that black velvet gown. Now it looked like Mulder would be doing the discovering; had already laid claim to the territory.

And Skinner? Hell - he'd probably be giving a massage to some ageing secretary with sciatica. What on earth had made him agree to provide a full-body massage, for god's sake?

Well - he knew the answer to that really. Scully. It was the thought of having an excuse to touch Scully with impunity - to be given carte blanche to run his hands over her slight frame. Oh - he realised that it was highly unlikely that she'd try to bid for his services. He was more worried that no-one would be interested in him at all - which would be humiliating in the extreme. But he couldn't get the idea of giving a massage to Scully out of his head. The chance to knead those muscles and melt the tension that he often saw in her body was just too tempting. And he knew that she needed it, although she'd never admit to the weakness.

Now months after her miraculous remission, she still wasn't back in shape. Sometimes she looked like she was still ill, and he'd have a minor panic about the disease returning. But he knew that wasn't the case. He'd made it his business to get regular reports from her specialist, and she continued free from cancer. That was a certainty.

But she was clearly trying to do too much too soon. Recently he'd taken to watching her closely after every strenuous field assignment. He wouldn't even give her a chance to rest and clean up before having her report directly to him. He wanted to know exactly what state she was in immediately after finishing an assignment.

Not good, was the answer. Fatigue was always evident on her face, and she'd spend the entire debriefing time trying desperately *not* to reach behind and rub the small of her back. He saw it all and his heart bled for her. He so wanted to do something to ease her pain.

Then last week it had all suddenly seemed too much. She'd sat there opposite him and tried to sound professional and all he could hear was the exhaustion in her voice and all he could see was the obvious pain in her body. And suddenly he hadn't been able to stand it any more. He'd shouted at her to , "Stop it! Just stop it!" but he was really shouting at himself - trying to rein in his emotions before he did something compromising. Because what he really wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and crush her to his chest - keeping her safe forever - or at least until the millennium.

He'd almost done it too. He'd stormed out from behind the protective safety of his desk and crouched down by her , and hadn't been able to resist the urge to touch her - to cradle her face as he'd done the day she collapsed in his arms. He'd been *that* close to kissing her too. A mere hair's breadth away. And if he had kissed her, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to stop with kissing. He'd have pulled her down off of that chair and onto his office carpet and taken her on the spot. He knew it was a massive conceit, but he couldn't escape the feeling that if he could just join his body with hers - just pump his life-force and love into her quivering warmth, she would somehow really be better. For once and for all and forever.

Well - he'd felt her shiver at his touch - twice. But was it in arousal or was it in fear? He couldn't be sure. At the time he'd thought it was fear and the suffocating guilt had caused him to jump away from her - his body rigid in embarrassment.

But later he'd wondered. Could it have been arousal? Had she wanted him as much as he'd wanted her? Or would it have ruined everything if he'd reached for her? Would she have run screaming from his office and straight into Mulder's arms? Or worse, into the arms of the police?

How was a man to tell?

God - Skinner found himself thinking - relationships were *so* complicated. If only you could look inside someone's mind - inside their hearts. Things would be so much easier.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

God - Scully found herself thinking - relationships were *so* complicated. If only you could look inside someone's mind - inside their hearts. Things would be so much easier.

Her musings were interrupted by the gushing voice of the hired 'auctioneer' who had approached the microphone at last. A minor celebrity from one of the more obscure cable channels, Julian was an English transvestite who had a cult following. Not the most appropriate figure to front the auction, perhaps - but he was well-known and had agreed to work for free. Mercifully, today he wore a dinner jacket like the other men - but he still managed to camp it up. He minced onstage and then turned to give the waiting 'lots' the full benefit of his lascivious glance. Turning back to the audience, he gasped, "Be still my heart!"

Everyone roared and Skinner's mouth tightened into an even grimmer line.

After a few more words of welcome and many more double entendres, Julian reminded them that this was all in a good cause, darlings - and the bidding for the first 'lot' began.

Never loath to be first in any given situation, McGrath was the man. He stood smugly at the podium while the auctioneer described the service he'd be providing - making it sound like sexual favours were on the table, rather than flying lessons in a two-seater Piper Cub - the aeronautical equivalent of a fifties Cadillac and demonstrating an equal lack of taste.

The constant sexual innuendo in everything that Julian said, certainly livened up the proceedings though. The audience laughed appreciatively and pulled out their checkbooks - which was the idea.

The bidding went by in a haze for Scully. She found herself unable to concentrate on anything but Skinner. Man after man stood up and smiled either confidently or in embarrassment, as his turn came. Julian made his obligatory lewd comments and drove the bidding higher and higher.

"My dear - surely you'll pay another fifty for such a magnificent specimen," he'd trill, and sure enough some timid soul would find herself waving her red catalogue in the air and the gavel would ring down yet again, amid amused applause. Yet another satisfied customer.

The moment of truth was fast approaching.

Finally it arrived.

Skinner stood up, stalked to the podium and glared at the assembled company, as if daring anyone to bid for him. Julian took one look and pretended to fan himself with the catalogue.

"Well - ladies......and gentleman, " he gushed, "I can see we've saved the best for last! It's a shame the auctioneer isn't allowed to bid on the lots himself! Oh mama!"

Skinner shot a look of pure vitriol at the man, who pretended to bite his fingernails in fear.

"Oooooo....I just love a man of few words and large muscles - don't you ladies? Now let's just see what this fine specimen has on offer."

He glanced down at the catalogue and pretended to do a double take as he read the promise of a full-body massage. Then he looked at Skinner again, giving him a slow once over - from head to foot and back up again - lingering on his crotch area.

"My my my my my...." he muttered, "There's nothing like getting hot surly massages from the hands of a large careless man, now - is there? Who'll start the bidding?"

Skinner began to turn an interesting shade of red and the audience lapped up his discomfiture. Even Scully started to grin, until the AD suddenly caught her eye for the first time that evening. There was something in his fierce look that caused her to flush scarlet and look away again at once, her heart pounding.

Well - this was it then. Time to put up or shut up.

"Do I have an opening bid for Assistant Director Skinner's services, ladies and gentlemen?" Julian repeated. "Surely, you're not afraid of him? Don't be put off by the scowl. I bet he's a pussy cat when you get him alone."

No one on earth could have resembled a pussy cat less than Skinner did at that precise moment, but the auctioneer seemed blissfully unaware of the AD's mounting fury.

"Do I hear one hundred dollars? Will anyone open with a measly one hundred dollars?"

There was an expectant hush in the room. Everyone was afraid to make the first move.

Mulder suddenly jabbed Scully in the ribs causing her to jump visibly. The auctioneer caught the movement and looked down at her.

"Was that a bid madam?" he asked - eyebrows raised expectantly.

Scully found herself nodding - her face now pink again, her stomach heaving nervously.

"Right - I have a bid of one hundred dollars from the blushing lady in the front row. Do I hear two hundred?"

Scully's bid has loosened the inhibitions of the other women present. A sea of hands flew in the air and the waving catalogues caused a gentle breeze to waft through the room, cooling fevered brows.

The auctioneer laughed outright, before pointing to a figure in the back of the hall and acknowledging the counter bid. Scully and Mulder turned together to see who it was. Even Skinner looked.

Marita Covarrubias stared back, her face a polite mask, but her eyes gleaming with determination.

Julian then asked for a further increase, looking straight back down at Scully - and smiling encouragement.

Scully hated to be bested in anything, and she was damned if she'd let that ice queen get the better of her. Now that she smelled competition, there was no stopping her. Scully immediately shot her hand in the air, securing the next bid to herself.

After that it all became a bit of a blur. The bidding continued fast and furious. Half the women in the room eventually jumped on the bandwagon, but Marita and Scully remained the two constants, until gradually they beat off the competition. It was to be a fight to the finish. No quarter asked or given.

Within ten minutes the bidding had reached over a thousand dollars, more than twice what anyone else had raised - and there was still no sign of either woman giving up. The audience craned back and forth as first Scully and then Marita bandied their bids across the ballroom. The competition was as intense as Wimbledon finals but the prize was much more interesting.

Finally Scully had been pushed too far. She wanted to win this man and she was damned if she was going to lose him. She no longer cared how desperate it made her look or what Skinner thought of her actions.

When the next call for a bid increase came, she heard herself shouting out a figure - rather than waving her catalogue in the air. It was a figure that caused an audible hiss of breath to come from the collective mouths of the startled audience. There was complete silence in the room, while the magnitude of the bid slowly registered in people's minds. Every eye turned in her direction, particularly the eyes of Walter Skinner.

For the first time since the bidding had begun, Scully gazed directly at him, only to discover a look of amused surprise on his face. This was not good - she thought to herself, as she dimly heard the gavel coming down to the accompaniment of the auctioneer's "Going once. Going twice. Sold to the lady in black velvet." Well - it was better than anger or rage, but amusement was not what she was hoping to inspire in Skinner.

The auctioneer called her attention away from her winning 'prize'. While pretending to speak only to Scully, he whispered into the microphone.

" Game, set and match, girl friend! But can I have him when you've finished? That's if you haven't tuckered him out too much, of course!"

The audience rose to leave on the sea of laughter that his last comment had provoked. Even Skinner grinned wryly, and there was something in his expression that made Scully's stomach do flip-flops. Mulder took advantage of the general movement to pull Scully up and have a quiet word.

"Don't worry about settling your debt, Scully. I'll do that for you and you can pay me back. But listen - I have one last birthday present for you." He turned her away from the stage, and she saw that he held a tiny box in his hand - already wrapped, with a bow stuck onto it that was larger than the package. He'd clearly wrapped it himself, and she couldn't help laughing outright at his ineptitude. It looked like it had been done by a five-year-old.

"I'm hurt," he said, pretending to be injured at her obvious amusement. Then grinning, he added - "Just open it - Scully - come on. Quickly! I've got to go and console La Covarrubias before someone else grabs her!"

Scully did as she was told, looking up at him to try to guess what could be in the small box, and at the same time trying not to think of Skinner who she knew was still up on stage staring fixedly at her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. It was very distracting.

Finally she got the small parcel open and looked inside. It was a room key with the unmistakable logo of the Princess Alexandra on the dangling fob.

He couldn't have? She looked up at Mulder with a startled expression on her face, only to see him grinning back down at her.

"Remember what you've just bought Scully? A full-body massage at a venue of your choice? Well - there's your venue. Room 1013. It's yours for the whole of the weekend. Enjoy it."

As he said the last words, he leant down and gently kissed her on the lips.

"Oh - and Scully? I made sure they put a massage table in the room. I had a feeling that you'd be needing it. Happy birthday and Valentine's Day combined." He whispered the last words, before grabbing her shoulders and gently turning her back to face the stage.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" she asked him quickly, looking back over her shoulder.

"Sure I'm sure. Now you go get 'em, partner. Meanwhile, I intend to find out if our Marita deserves the name of 'Deep Throat' or if it's all just a vicious rumour!"

Scully pretended to be shocked at his words, but she looked a little happier as she watched Mulder go off in search of the seductive Marita. Maybe he'd be okay after all.

Then she turned back to face the music. Skinner had just climbed down off of the stage and he had begun to walk purposefully in her direction. There was an odd expression on his face which Scully couldn't quite interpret. He didn't look angry. That was certain. And he no longer looked amused - which was also a relief. But what did that look suggest? She wasn't quite sure.

If Scully could have looked into Skinner's heart at that moment, her curiosity would have been appeased, but she might have been even more nervous.

For the look on Skinner's face was one of heartfelt relief. He knew for sure now. He no longer doubted. Scully had unintentionally answered his qualms about her response to his touch the other night. It couldn't have been fear. If she'd been afraid of him, she certainly wouldn't have spent the best part of a year's salary for the chance to be alone with him - nekkid and horizontal. And the thing with Mulder? It must have been friendship after all. Skinner could already see him disappearing out the door in hot pursuit of the Covarrubias woman. God - that had been a narrow escape. He shuddered just thinking about it, then looked more cheerful when he remembered who'd just bought him. Finally Skinner smiled outright as he began to examine the possibilities.

Oh yes - the Assistant Director was feeling fine - and he had high hopes that within the next hour or so, Scully would be feeling fine too. All he needed to do was to get her alone, and to overcome the scruples which she was bound to begin having. He knew his Special Agent - and once she had a chance to think about what she'd done, she'd panic and try to haul ass out of there.

Skinner was determined to do everything in his power to make sure that didn't happen.


End file.
